


Magnolia

by yeaka



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 08:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10532925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: When they get a chance, Gandalf and Radagast visit their old home.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Solarfox123](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solarfox123/gifts).



> A/N: Fill for auniverseforgotten’s “Radagast/Gandalf [...] marriage” request on [my tumblr](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/159143097640/hello-i-saw-your-bingo-card-and-i-remembered-a). (Fill for my “marriage” [bingo square.](http://yeaka.tumblr.com/post/158937866370/fic-bingo))
> 
> Disclaimer: I don’t own The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings or any of Tolkien’s works or any of their contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

They haven’t been to the house in what seems like ages, but it still stands, broken and crumbling round the edges. It reminds Gandalf faintly of the residents. He brushes his fingers along the cracked doorway, and Radagast bustles right inside, whistling for his birds to follow. They do, even though Gandalf chuckles fondly, “I thought you wanted it to be just _us_.”

“Oh, but it is,” Radagast says, even though he’s named each and every one of the feathered critters that lands so happily about his hat. He plays with the end of his staff, likely trying to make it light, while Gandalf feels around the edges of the dark room for the candles he often left. One of the birds pulls the kitchen curtain aside first, and the low evening light streams in across the sink. It’s caked in moss, and a single squirrel bolts out of it, Radagast quickly running after. Gandalf leaves him to it and sets to lighting the candles.

By the time Radagast’s wandered back, Gandalf’s righted most of the furniture and set out what they can’t use. It’s a pity so much is ruined, but he has no one to blame but himself. Radagast looks about anyway, blowing dust off different surfaces, and sighs, “Home sweet home.”

It’s only marginally worse than Radagast’s overrun cabin in the woods. But that’s because Radagast is like that. Gandalf would’ve kept it neater, if he’d been around. If he weren’t so busy running other things. One of the sparrows wanders back to settle on Radagast’s hat again, but now he shakes it off and tells it, “Give me a moment!” It flutters off with an angry hoot, and Radagast settles his hat back into place. Finally devoid of any excess creatures, he turns to Gandalf and smiles.

Gandalf can see new wrinkles in it. Radagast’s greyer than ever. His posture’s disintegrated. But beyond the sunken skin and wilting bones, that _smile_ is still the same. Sometimes, when the horizon’s clear and Gandalf can afford to really _think_ , to fade back into memory, he can recall chasing that smile down the shores of Valinor. The world was young then, and they could afford to build this little house and say vows like the elves did.

He had a ring, back before rings lost their appeal. And he’s sure he could find it again if he wanted. He knows that Radagast’s kept all the rings that Gandalf’s given him over the years—some of sheer affection, some of apology for always being _gone_. Radagast always laughs it off and says better than the pink wizard, who’s been gone so long that neither can even remember the right name. But the others were never part of their bond.

Gandalf still comes back. He’s forgotten so many things, but he can’t afford to forget _this_ , and he smiles back. They’ll play house for a while, if they can. Until the forest calls to Radagast, and the people cry for Gandalf. 

Radagast sighs, “Should we do tea or cake?”

Gandalf snorts, “Good heavens, wherever did you get the chance to pack _cake_?”

Radagast winks, which isn’t at all reassuring, and wanders past Gandalf to the stove. He blows across the top of it, and spiders scurry out from under the array of twigs the birds must’ve brought in. It’s a hopeless, pitiful sight, but Radagast doesn’t look long put out. He’ll likely have a fire going soon, if Gandalf doesn’t stop him.

In the interest of not burning down their first home together, Gandalf suggests, “Let’s rest first and deal with that tomorrow.” 

Radagast taps the stove once with his staff but begrudgingly agrees, “Alright.” As Gandalf fetches a candle, he asks, “Do you think the bed will be in tact?”

“Oh, I imagine it’ll be a nice little fox den by now,” Gandalf answers.

Radagast chirps, “Oh, I hope so,” and when Gandalf shoots him _that look_ , he chuckles, “Alright, alright. Just _you and me_ , then. Goodness, you’ve grown jealous.”

Gandalf doesn’t counter the assertion, because he knows Radagast doesn’t think that. The joke holds. The candle reveals that the ceiling’s collapsed on the bedroom, to which Radagast announces cheerfully, “I always liked the stars with you just as well.”

“We shall repair it tomorrow,” Gandalf decides. They’ve already done it twice, and both left it to rot again.

But Radagast agrees, “Naturally. Shall we get a new set of rings to go with it?”

Gandalf waves his free hand and opts for: “Just the vows should do, I think.” 

“If you like. But mine still stand from the last dozen.”

Gandalf returns, “As do mine,” and pecks Radagast’s cheek on the way to their new bed of grass outside.


End file.
